I Love You, My Dear Friend
by quittakingmyname
Summary: "You're my best friend, Stan. No, you're more than my best friend. I cherish every moment we have together, the good and the bad, because it's these moments that have brought us as close as we are today."  Need I say more? Feel free to read.


**I Love You, My Dear Friend**

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Disclaimer: I do NOT own South Park or any characters that appear in this fic. All I own is this story…nothing else!

_**Note:**_ This story is a special one shot for my friend Stan's birthday. Yes I am aware that this was late but…who cares! ^^ The main guys in this fic are fourteen just in case I didn't mention it, or if there was any confusion about what age/grade they were in! Enjoy! ^^

_The story begins…_

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* * *

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The world was cold and desolate.

The sky was a depressing dark gray and the buildings and scenery were devoid of color. Time did not exist here—everyday was the same as the last—and the few people that dwelled within the small, miserable town never smiled.

What day was today? Not that it truly mattered, because deep down he knew that this was simply one more day he had to live through without his best friend at his side. Still, what day was today….why did today seem so important…what was so special about today?

A small knock against his bedroom door echoed throughout his room dramatically, interrupting the few thoughts that buzzed through his head, followed by a familiar, feminine voice.

"Stanley, are you in there?"

The boy did not respond, instead, he continued to stare up at the ceiling as depressing, morbid thoughts circulated his mind. He was not in the mood to talk…he was not in the mood to do anything except lay in bed, in a world of darkness and silence, of pain and misery.

"Stanley?" His mother called out again, uncertainty was evident in her tone as she cracked the door open and peeked inside. "Stan…" She wore a worried expression as she gazed at her lifeless son. Never before in her life did she ever witness her son in this state of depression. It was disheartening to say the least, and more than anything she really just wanted her son back.

Stan continued to ignore his mother's presence, focusing only on the voices in his head. He didn't want to hear what she had to say, he honestly wished that she would just leave him alone. No one in his family understood the pain he lived through everyday….No one understood how much Kyle meant to him….

"Stan, you…you have a visitor, Stan."

No response.

"Stanley, I know these past few days have been hard for you, but please—"

"You have no idea what life has been like for me! You don't know what I've been through, mom; you have no idea how hard this has been!" Stan was sitting up now, glaring daggers at his mom, and fighting back tears that began to pool in the corners of his eyes.

"I want to understand, Stanley. You know you can talk to me about how you feel. You don't have to hold it all in!" Sharon pleaded. So badly, she wanted her son to talk to her about his problems like he used to, but something in him changed since Kyle left; something in him died.

"…but no matter what I say to you, you'll never truly know the feeling. There's no point in opening up if you won't understand how I feel." Stan slowly lowered his head against his pillows once again, this time staring at the wall on the left, though not really looking at it at all. "Hey mom, what's today?"

This sudden question took Sharon by surprise. Was it possible that her son had made plans, or was he concerned about something else? "It's May 26th." For a moment Stan didn't respond, and his mom waited for some kind of response in uncomfortable silence. After a minute or two passed, Sharon turned to leave the room.

"Hey, mom, tell whoever's out there for me that I don't want to talk right now." Stan could tell that his mother was debating about what she should say or if she should say anything. He was glad that she decided against what she really wanted to do, allowing him to remain in silence and mourn his loss.

* * *

Stan walked around South Park, dressed in his "Gothic" attire, with no particular destination in mind. All he could think about was how unfair life was. His best friend died in the hospital bed, and all Stan could do was sit by his side, holding his hand tightly as he watched the last few seconds of Kyle's life slip away. What did he do to deserve this pain? Who had the right to take someone's time away? He had no answers, only questions, a broken heart, and the idea that no one understood what he was going through. No one!

The raven haired boy sat on the steps of a random house. It wasn't until a familiar little boy with hair as dark as his sat next to him that Stan realized that he was at the Broflovski's residence; in all honesty this was the last place he wanted to be.

"Hey Stan," Ike sighed. The young Canadian didn't make any eye contact with the twelve year old; he simply kept his eyes on the ground, despair was clear in the expression on his face.

Stan did not respond. What could he possibly say to a kid he rarely conversed with whose brother had just passed? And to top it all, it was his brother's birthday! Kyle didn't even make it to his next birthday….

"We don't really talk much, but I know you feel the same way I do right now. I know that it feels like it's the end of the world…that you wish Kyle had more time…that it's unfair that he was taken from us." Stan remained silent. This was not something he wanted to hear right now, especially from a seven year old, but at the same time he couldn't help but just sit there and listen.

"You feel empty and alone. The world seems to have lost its purpose, and everything just seems dull and colorless." Once again Ike hit the nail on the head. "I want you to know that it's okay to feel this way and to think these things, I mean, it's only natural to do so. But Stan, it's not good that you feel alone and think that no one understands you. I do. Kyle was as much your brother as he was mine, he may have even been more than that for you, but the pain we feel is the same. We both have a hole in our heart where Kyle used to be…just remember that—"

Ike was interrupted by Stan's laughter which echoed loudly through the neighborhood. "This…is so…backwards!" He managed to choke out between giggle fits and gasps for air. Ike glanced at Stan with his head cocked to the side wearing a puzzled expression.

"Uh, Stan?" The older boy continued to laugh; tears were now streaming down his face and he felt his throat and sides begin to hurt. He struggled to stifle his laughs long enough to breathe, he needed Ike to understand.

"I'm…I'm sorry Ike it's just…I should be the one…the one saying this to you!" Stan collapsed into a fit of laughter again, but something was different. After a few seconds Ike realized that Stan wasn't laughing anymore, he was actually crying. "I'm…I'm so pathetic! I s-should be the one t-telling you that you're n-not alone. I shouldn't have to hear this f-from some s-seven year old kid."

Ike did not know what else to do for Stan, so he simply hugged the boy, giving him the opportunity to get all of his feelings out. At first Stan was rather surprised by his actions, but soon, he hugged the small Canadian back. Ike felt Stan's tears drop on to his face and he hugged him tighter, the poor guy really needed this.

"I know how you feel, Ike. I'm sorry I didn't even think to comfort you before, but I promise…I promise I'll take care of you. I'll do it for Kyle…I'll do it for all three of us…"

* * *

Stan opened his eyes and saw nothing but white mountains. It took his eyes a moment to adjust and realize that what he saw was actually the bumps and crinkles in the sheets. The boy raised his head and rolled it around; he must have slept on it wrong. He stretched his sleepy arms and yawned wiping sleep from his eyes and noticing for the first time that not only were there dried tears on his face, but his left hand was holding on to someone else's and he was in a hospital room sitting in a chair which was pulled up next to a bed.

"Oh yea, I visited Kyle after school…" He mumbled to himself as another yawn escaped him. He then gazed upon the pale boy sleeping in front of him and sighed; Kyle was still alive, that was all just a horrible dream. Stan's eyes then began searching the white walls until they fell upon a calendar; it wasn't May 26th, today was September 15th. Good.

"Stan…" Kyle's voice was a mere whisper. He slowly turned to face his best friend and squeezed his hand tightly. "Stan…I'm not going to make it."

"Don't say that! You will make it! We'll come up with the money so that you can have the surgery! You will make it Kyle!" Stan didn't know how, but he was determined to do whatever it would take to raise enough money for Kyle's treatment.

"It…doesn't matter anymore."

"What! How can you say that! Of course it matters!"

"I overheard…the doctor…talking…to my parents…he said…that the cancer was…spreading. He said that…if I don't get treatment…right away…that I would…not have much time left."

"Huh? What do you mean, dude? How much time do you have?"

Kyle did not respond. Instead he released his grasp on Stan's hand and gently caressed his cheek and smiled. Stan had never seen a more serene look on Kyle's face, and somehow it saddened him. There was something wrong with this picture, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"I love you, Stan. I love you more than you will ever know. I…wish that I would have told you sooner…but…I cherish every moment we've spent together…and I wish we had more time."

"Why are you saying this, Kyle? You have plenty of time! Don't give up, Kyle, I'll get the money! You will live!" Tears once again threatened to fall from his eyes, but this time Stan was not strong enough to keep them at bay.

"Stan, please do not make this harder than it has to be." Kyle was still smiling brightly, but his soft, strained voice couldn't mask the gravity of the situation. "You have to accept that my time here is done. It's not fair, but it's over. "

"No! No you can't go, Kyle! There's so much I never got to say! So many things we never got to do! You're my best friend; you're not allowed to leave!" Tears streamed down his face as he pleaded with his friend, knowing nothing would come of it; knowing that his friend wished for more time as well.

"Good-bye, Stan..."

"No…"

"I love you….forever…I will…always…" As Kyle's hand fell limp, and his body became still, Stan could no longer contain the emotions within.

"I love you too, Kyle! I love you so much! I can't live without you. I can't live….

* * *

"Stan! Wake up, school's over! We're going to miss the bus!" Stan's head snapped, and almost instantly he hated the lightning fast movement. Now his neck hurt and he felt kind of dizzy, great! "Alright, finally! Come on, dude, we've got to get out of here now, unless you plan on walking home!"

Stan wiped the slobber off of his face and looked around the room. They were in their ninth grade homeroom, and there were no other students in the class; Stan and Kyle were the only ones left. Stan stood up fast and snatched the books from inside his desk, and just for good measure, pinched his arm as hard as he could. When he didn't find himself waking up again, he concluded that this was not a dream, or perhaps he just didn't pinch himself hard enough.

Kyle had already got his books together and began to head out of the door, and Stan quickly followed behind him. They went to their lockers and stuffed whatever they needed into their backpacks, and then headed for the bus, but Stan had other plans.

"Hey, Kyle…I uh…I need to talk to you."

"Sure what is it?" He replied without missing a step. Stan grabbed his shoulder, making Kyle stop and face him. "What's wrong, dude?"

"Let's walk home, today. I have a lot to tell you."

"Uh…okay. Sure!"

On the way home, Stan told Kyle about both of the weird dreams he had, and Kyle listened intently to both tales. The last one seemed to have particularly have more of an effect on him than the first, but Stan wasn't sure why.

"So…that's basically it!"

"You know, Stan, when you think back on it it's actually quite obvious that those were dreams, especially when we were only twelve in them when we're fourteen now."

"Yea, I know that now, but it seemed so real that I didn't really pay any attention to that small detail."

For a while the boys continued on in silence, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts. There was a nagging sensation at the back of Stan's mind, and a thought that floated around, waiting to be acknowledged. Deep down Stan knew that if he voiced this thought it could forever change his friendship with Kyle, either for the better or for the worst, but if he didn't voice it at all, it would eat him alive until he did.

"Hey, Kyle."

"Yea?"

"In…in one of my dreams you told me that you cherish every moment we've had together…do you really feel that way?" An uncomfortable silence filled the air between the two friends as Stan waited patiently for Kyle's reply.

"Yeah I do. You're my best friend, Stan. No, you're more than my best friend. I cherish every moment we have together, the good and the bad, because it's these moments that have brought us as close as we are today." Stan exhaled at the reply, unaware of the fact that he was holding his breath at all. "What about you? Do you cherish our moments together?" Stan stopped in his tracks, and Kyle did the same. He then reach for his friend's hand and held it in both of his, looking Kyle directly in the eyes and replied:

"Of course I do. I love you, Kyle. Those dreams made me realize something…they showed me that we don't know how much time we have left in this world, so whatever I need to say, I just say it no matter what. Because when I die, I don't want to have any regrets, and if you were to die before me, I'd want you to know how much you mean to me before you go."

Then something happened, something that neither he nor Kyle expected. Stan pulled Kyle in close and planted a kiss on his soft lips. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but in that moment, Stan experienced a strange sensation he never felt whenever he kissed Wendy. There was just something about him and Kyle together that made perfect sense. When they pulled apart, Stan remained three inches from Kyle's face.

"I love you so much, Kyle," he breathed softly. His warm breath sent a chill down Kyle's spine once it gently touched his cheek.

"I love you too, Stan," he responded before he brushed his lips against Stan's, initiating another kiss.


End file.
